


Confessions

by aqoamoon



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Childhood Friends, Choking, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Love Confessions, Master/Slave, Nice Ivar, OOC, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Fingering, slow burn?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 03:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17931968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aqoamoon/pseuds/aqoamoon
Summary: As a thrall with plenty of experience in the Lothbrok household, Y/N knew she could not refuse Queen Aslaug's request to treat and care for her son's legs. But Y/N rapidly discovers that treating the youngest prince wasn't the easiest of tasks, especially when said prince had been longing for the young thrall for quite some time.





	Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there. I've returned with another Ivar smutty one-shot, since I couldn't help myself :') There are two things that I would like to address though, and these are the following: although I've finally started watching the TV series, I've only reached the second season, where of course Ivar is still portrayed as an infant, so all the information I have comes from a wiki page and some other fanfics that portray the character in very different manners. For this reason, the character might seem ooc for some, but I personally enjoyed writing him like this. Secondly, I know that usually viking house are not delimited into rooms, but for the purpose of the plot, I've decided to add rooms to the house, so I hope this won't be an inconvenience. And lastly, this story can be also found on my tumblr page. Thank you and enjoy :)

You gathered the clothing from the high clothes line, folding them quickly so you could enter the house. Soon enough the temperatures would drop and you’d have to hang the clothing inside, near the fire place, so the fabric would not freeze. Your shoulders tensed when you suddenly heard the sound of crawling, but you did not stop moving and your hands reached out for another tunic. The youngest Ragnarsson came ahead of his brothers and you wondered if he had had another fight with Sigurd. Ivar stopped at a short distance, turning to sit on his behind and watched you move swiftly. He often liked to watch you perform your tasks, if possible, unnoticed. He knew that the moment you felt a presence, your body would tense, just like it did now and your movement would not be as fluid and as graceful as it was when you were certain of your privacy. 

  
“Is there anything I can do for you, my prince?” you asked, abruptly turning around, throwing the last folded item in your basket. ‘There would be many things that I’d like you to do for me,’ Ivar answered in his mind, the thought of you spread naked on his furs heating up his cheeks. Your eyebrow arched curiously at the pink coloration of his face, but quickly dismissed it as you waited patiently for an answer.

  
“Is… uhm, is supper going to be served soon?” Ivar wanted to take one of his knives and shove it in his eye. Such a pointless question, such a waste of time.

  
“It is going to be served as soon as the other princes arrive. As always,” you replied, your head falling inquiringly to the side, your eyes searching his for an answer to the strange behavior he started displaying in front of you lately. “Would there be anything else, my prince? I must go and help the other servants with the preparations,” you said, straightening your aching back and Ivar shook his head, his strapped hands coming close to his mouth so they could be warmed up by his hot breath.

  
With a quick bow, you grabbed the basket from the ground and rushed into the house, as Ivar watched you leave. Why was he so awkward in your presence? The two of you had used to be so close as children. The memories of you singing and caressing him to sleep when his mother couldn’t, of you teaching him how to fight with wooden swords when his brothers refused to and even of you simply talking and laughing at his silly teasing would often be replayed fondly in his mind. And yet now, the two of you barely exchanged any words, except for the strict necessary, and it saddened and angered him. It enraged him to think that you, a mere thrall, considered yourself superior to him, but with every knife and axe hurled at the wooden board, he would descend from his anger high and remember your usual meek demeanor. After physical and mental exertion, he would sink into a melancholic state, until he would catch a glimpse of you. And then he would straighten up, puffing out his chest in order to gain your attention, but he rarely succeeded, and even when he did, like now, the prince would be lost for words and flushed, like a small teenage boy. Ivar grabbed handfuls of grass and ripped them from the cold earth, as he watched your form disappearing into the house.

  
You placed your basket near the fire so the clothes could warm up while you were preparing the table for supper. The rest of the princes would come from the training grounds in a little while and the food had to be ready to be placed in front of them as soon as they sat down, otherwise they would grow impatient and start bickering among themselves. Taking a rag from the front pocket of your apron dress, you wiped the smooth surface of the table, before neatly placing the gold cutlery before each seat.  
Your ears picked up the loud voices just as the door swung open and one by one, the four princes came in. You placed the last knife down, bowed your head and swiftly told the eldest that you would inform their mother of their arrival. You scrambled to the other end of the house and gently knocked on the queen’s door. Getting permission from Aslaug, you entered the spacious room.

  
“My Queen, the princes had arrived.” You said, head still bowed low, hands clasped in front of you.

  
“Thank you, Y/N. I will be there immediately. You can start serving without me.” The queen said, and you sneaked a peak at the beautiful woman. You nodded and left the woman behind, rushing to the kitchen to take the food out. Another thrall brought pitchers of ale and started pouring while you placed the platter with roasted meat in the middle. Grabbing one of the pitchers, the two of you started pouring the beverage in the empty cups. The queen joined the dinner table not long after her sons had started feasting and as you came to her aid, she began questioning the princes about their day. The interaction between mother and sons was usually pleasant to watch, unless Sigurd or Ivar were feeling in a particularly bad mood and would make a few snide remarks that usually left everybody tense. But today didn’t seem like one of those days and you were glad.

  
You didn’t realize you were staring until your eyes suddenly met Ivar’s unnaturally blue ones, and you held his gaze for a solid moment before letting it sink to his half full glass. Then you looked at every glass in turn and went to pour some ale in Ubbe’s cup, seeing it nearly empty. You hoped that the younger prince did not pay any heed to the unconscious staring, but you knew better. He was as smart as they come, so it was better for you to hope that he wouldn’t be interested enough to question it. The meal ended in high spirits, and you were relieved that you wouldn’t have to clean up the mess that would have been left behind by a fight.

  
The princes got up to go to their quarters and you began clearing the table and getting ready to take the dishware to the kitchen so another thrall could wash it. You had to return to Aslaug’s room so you could help her prepare for the night. It always gave you pleasure to serve your queen, since she was always good to you, and also the routine was easy to perform. You would help the queen undress and put a nightgown on, then you would brush and braid her hair in a loose form so she could sleep comfortably. You’d take the clothes to be washed the next day and bring fresh water on your way back so Aslaug could have something to drink if she were to wake up thirsty during the night. After having done all of this, you could retreat to the slaves’ chamber and rest for the night.

  
You keenly imagined the warmth of your bed as you placed the heavy pitcher next to the queen’s bed and, bowing, you asked if you could do anything else for her. The queen nodded and you patiently waited, dreading what other task she could give you so late at night.

  
“I have noticed today that Ivar’s eyes have turned bluer than usual. I… I am afraid he is nearing another episode of his. He won’t say anything, but I know it is because of all the training and the hours he spends at the blacksmith’s. I wish to be prepared for the worst, so I’d like you to go from now on and help Ivar with his ointments. I’ve already spoken with him, so he won’t cause you much trouble. “ She said, getting under the furs and looking at you intently. You sucked in a breath of air, knowing you could not refuse. When the young prince was younger, an old thrall would care for his legs, and when the thrall died, that duty was taken by Margrethe at the prince’s command. And suddenly, Ivar stopped letting the blonde thrall or anybody else for that matter take care of his legs, which resulted in quite a few pain filled nights for the prince.

  
“Of course, my queen. Should I go to him now?” You mumbled, your hands clasped tightly in front of you. You could only hear a hum of approval and, bowing your head, you left only to head over to the kitchens to heat some water. You knew from the older thrall that the skin must be clean before the application of the ointments so you figured you’d go over prepared. After pouring the water in a small wooden basin and filling the front pockets of your apron with clean linen and small containers, you carried the basin until you’d reached the door to Ivar’s room. Balancing the basin between one hand and your hip, you knocked the door gently and stated your name.  
You opened the door only when you heard a bark of approval and you entered the room, only to see the prince already dressed in his linen undershirt, tucked firmly under the multitude of furs on his bed. Pursing your lips in disapproval you placed the basin next to the bed.

  
“Queen Aslaug sent me to care for your legs, my prince.” You stated, removing the small containers from your pockets and placing them on the nightstand next to his water jug.

  
“There is no need today. My legs are just fine and as you can see, I am already in bed. “ He said, wiggling deeper in his furs and your head snapped towards him, your eyes narrowing.

  
“I can see that. But the Queen ordered me to come and care for your legs. I am sure she would be dissatisfied to hear that the prince refused the treatment, especially since she has been so worried lately.” You watched closely as Ivar’s face dropped and his mouth set in a thin line. With a ‘fine’ he hurled the furs violently off his body and rolled to the edge of his bed, positioning himself so that his feet were dangling over the rim. You bit back a smile at the childish behavior and knelt before him, bringing the basin closer. Taking a clean piece of cloth, you soaked it in water and brought it gently over the thin layers of flesh that covered the frail bones of his legs. You lathered your hands in soap and rubbed the foam over his legs, reaching the middle of his thigh and then you soaked the cloth again in order to rinse his skin.

  
You took the first jar and scooped some ill smelling white paste in your hand. Warming the cream in your palms, you gently started to massage the cream into his skin, moving from his foot, to the calf, to the knee and finally reaching the thigh. You repeated the process with the other leg, while maintaining a comfortable silence between you. You were concentrated on your task and Ivar was concentrated on what you were doing. The prince looked for signs of disgust on your face, but found none during the whole procedure, so he allowed himself to relax under your touch. He remembered how Margrethe would try to hide the disgust and talk incessantly, probably to distract herself from the task at hand. But you stayed in an almost comforting silence, working the ointments diligently into his skin, a content smile playing on your lips.  
When done with the creams, you wetted the long strips of linen with the plant tincture and wrapped the cloth tightly around each leg. When done you grabbed Ivar’s legs and gently raised them on the bed, covering them with the fur.

  
“Thank you.” He mumbled and you chuckled, gathering everything.

  
“You are welcome, my prince. I shall see you tomorrow.” You bowed, grabbed the basin and left, gently closing the door behind you. You were pleased that the younger prince had let you do your duties without giving you too much trouble, but you knew not all nights would be the same, and you braced yourself for the nights when Ivar would be in a sour mood.

  
And that came soon enough, for Sigurd, taking the absence of his mother as a good opportunity, began to mock his brother. The bickering ended with the two fighting on the floor, with Ubbe trying to part the two and Hvitserk laughing loudly. Bruised and angry, Ivar crawled to his quarters without eating a thing and Sigurd sat at the table, eating as if nothing had happened. After the meal ended, you placed some food on a platter and together with a jug of ale, you took the food to the younger prince. You couldn’t afford having him weaken by hunger, especially since the pain in his joints and bones was making him lose sleep.

  
Knocking at the door, you didn’t bother to wait for an answer and entered. You yelped suddenly and took one step backwards as the knife planted itself firmly in the wood a few centimeters left to your face. Your heart quickened and your legs trembled a bit as you locked eyes with the prince. His eyes were smoldering and his lips were set in a thin line. He sat on his bed and had another knife in his hands that he was twirling lazily, as if daring anybody to take one step further into his room. His axe was propped on his nightstand and he was still dressed. You bit the inside of your cheek and, huffing, you entered the room, closing the door with your foot.

  
“I’ve brought you some food and ale, my Prince.” You said, placing the jug and the platter on the nightstand. You filled his cup and, going back to the door, you grabbed the knife and forced it out. You knew you were playing a dangerous game and the knife shining in Ivar’s hands could very well have your head as its next target. But you had a duty to fulfill and you knew you’d rather take Ivar’s heated yet short lived anger than Aslaug’s rage.

  
“I’ll go to heat some water for your legs, my Prince. I’ll be back in a few moments.” You placed the knife next to its owner and turning your back, you exited the room. As the door closed, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and shook your head, damning the other prince. This was going to be a long night.

  
When you entered Ivar’s room for a second time, no knife flew towards you and you were glad. But it didn’t mean the prince was going to make your duty any easier. You placed the basin at the end of the bed and you smiled to yourself as you saw the platter empty of food.

  
“Would you like me to help you get undressed, my Prince?” the young man grumbled in agreement, leaving the knife forgotten on the bed and holding out his hands. The leather gloves were still on and you started by unbuckling the small iron clasps that kept the gloves tight on his arms. It was a meticulous process and you wondered how the short-tempered prince had the patience to put the gloves on every morning and take them off every night. Finally having them off, you took off his tunic as well, leaving him half naked before your eyes. You tried not to ogle, but the muscles of his chest and arms were budging and his skin was glistening with a sheer layer of sweat. You were so close you could sense his musky smell and you sucked your lower lip between your teeth. You hadn’t been with a man in a long time and your body was getting excited and heating up on its own accord. You grabbed the nightshirt and held it open, but the prince stopped you.

  
“I’d like you to clean my upper body as well.” Ivar said and your eyes shot up to see him suppressing a grin. You ground your teeth and grabbed the wet cloth from the bowl, squeezing out the excess water and starting to rub the sweat off his skin. He moaned in satisfaction and you continued your way to his shoulders, quickly going over his back then down his arms and finally you reached his hands. Grabbing his hand in your own, you felt the calloused skin, the long fingers, the hard bones of his knuckles and you sighed. You knew how deadly his hands were, but you wondered how they would feel caressing your body, fondling your breast, squeezing your bottom. You scrubbed him harder than intended and you felt him flinch under your grasp.

  
“I’m sorry. Would you like me to get your trousers off as well?” you asked, soaking the cloth in the water and compressing it in your fist once more.

  
“I think I can do that myself. Turn around.” Ivar snapped, making you scramble to your feet. You turned, giving the prince the privacy he needed and listened closely as Ivar unbuckled the leather straps binding his legs together as your hands played unconsciously with the damp cloth. He unlaced his trousers and pulled them off and he quickly put his nightshirt on to cover up. Sneaking a peak, you saw him placing the knives on his nightstand and you dared to face him once more, without him ordering you to. He didn’t seem to mind, so you kneeled between his legs, like the many time you’d done so far, and started washing his pale legs. Afterwards, you reached for the ointments on the nightstand and as you were messaging the creams into his legs, your head bowed down, you felt a hand creeping behind your neck, keeping you steady in place. From the corner of your eye, you saw Ivar bending forwards as well and felt his nose nuzzling in your tresses, heavily breathing in your scent. Your hands stilled on his legs and your eyes widened.

  
“You smell so good.” Ivar whispered, rubbing his nose further in your hair, his grip on your neck tightening when he felt you pulling away.

  
“My prince, I …” You started but the man cut you off by pulling away and placing his other hand under your chin, making you meet his extraordinarily blue eyes.

  
“Ivar… You once used to call me Ivar.” He said gently, the harshness he usually presented to the others gone, only to be replaced with a tender look that you knew was reserved only for the very few.

  
“Yes. And then we grew up.” You chuckled sadly, placing your hand on his and rubbing small circles with your thumb. You remembered the time Aslaug brought you to your new home. The queen knew that if you had remained on the small farm where you had been born, you would have died of starvation, together with your parents, so in a moment of mercy, she had bought you as a slave for her own sons. And as a child fairly close to their age, the five of you had got along quite well, but as you had aged, more and more responsibilities had been placed on your shoulders and you had had to replace play with work. Soon, you had been working from daybreak till nightfall and had had no more time to spend with the sons of Ragnar and instead of being a personal slave, like Aslaug had intended, you had become just a regular one.

  
“I wish we could go back.” Ivar whispered, his hand moving to cup your cheek and yours fell on his thigh, seeking balance.

  
“We both know it’s not possible… Ivar.” You said dryly, letting the name roll off your tongue for the first time in years. The muscle in his cheek twitched and you could almost see the beginning of a smile.

  
“Yes, but one can dream. Will you…will you spend the night with me? Like you used to when we were children?” He asked, a hopeful glow in his eyes, and you smiled and nodded, making him break into a smile as well.

  
“I’ll be needing my nightshirt.” You said, trying to move away but still feeling Ivar’s hand keeping you in place.

  
“Just take one of mine. I have plenty.” He pointed to his trunk and you nodded gratefully. You bent over to look for an older nightshirt in the wooden trunk and found a yellowing one at the bottom. You looked behind and saw Ivar watching attentively, unconsciously playing with the linen you had to wrap around his legs. You smiled gently and, with your back turned at him, you started undressing. Unbuckling the brass claps at your chest, you let the apron dress fall and bunch up at your feet. Your fingers worked swiftly at the laces on your chest and when you reached the bottom, you shrugged the dress off your shoulders. You heard Ivar inhaling sharply as your dress hit the floor and your smile grew bigger. After a few silent seconds you pulled the shirt over your head, picked your clothing and folded it as it was custom for you to do every night before bed.  
“I’d like to finish treating your legs,” you said, placing the folded clothes on an empty chair and, kneeling once more before Ivar, you pulled the linen from his grasp and soaked it in the plant tincture. Ivar gulped loudly and tried to focus his gaze anywhere but on the sight of your breast, which was revealed by the low v-neck of his nightshirt. He wondered slightly if you knew your breast was out for him to see and then he smiled. Of course you knew. Since you had been a child you had loved teasing other people, and that was exactly what you were doing now as well.

  
“So, shall we go to bed?” you huffed, getting up and gathering all of your utensils in a small pile over your clothes. Ivar muttered a low yes and rolled over to make room for you. You gingerly laid down and covered the both of you with his furs and, turning on your side, you faced the young man. The two of you were close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body but not close enough to touch and you idly wondered if anything would happen between the two of you that night.

  
Your eyelids fluttered and fell shut as your muscles relaxed into the softness of his bed. Compared to what you were regularly sleeping on, this was heaven. Ivar’s hand searched for yours under the fur and, finding it, he grasped it, his thick fingers interlocking with yours. Keeping your eyes closed, you smiled and let out a content sigh.

  
“Do you remember…” Ivar whispered, “do you remember when Floki used to take both of us near the fire and tell us stories of the gods?” you nodded and opened your eyes to see Ivar’s calm face. You led his hand to your hip and left it there while your own hand latched itself to his brown hair, your fingers combing out the few knots. He moaned in satisfaction and his hand gave your hip a squeeze of approval.

  
“How could I forget? He also used to tell us stories of your father’s battles. He was so silly.” You chuckled, your hand still in Ivar’s hair, gently tugging and scratching his scalp. He removed his hand from your hip and grabbed your wrist, stilling the movement of your own hand. Your eyes met again and your breath hitched.

  
“Why did you stop spending time with us? With me? Can you even imagine how much I’ve missed you?” Ivar asked, his thumb rubbing small patterns on the inner side of your wrist, feeling the erratic pulse of your heart.

  
“I’m a thrall, Ivar. I couldn’t play with you forever, I had responsibilities, “ you rasped, your gaze falling on his plump lips only to avoid the cutting intensity of his eyes.

  
“We both know that is not true. Mother bought you for us. If you had said something, I’m sure…” the prince began, but you cut him off sharply.

  
“You’re sure of what, Ivar? If I had remained your thrall, your brothers would have jumped on me like dogs in heat jumping on a bitch. I’ve seen the looks Ubbe was giving me and slave as I may be, I am no whore,” you said, forcing your hand out of his grasp and rolling to your other side, you turned your back to Ivar.

  
Everything was silent once again for a few moments as Ivar thought what he should do next. Pushing you could result in one of his knives buried deeply in his flesh. But still, he decided to risk it. His arm slithered round your waist and he brought himself closer to you, sticking his chiseled front to your back. You tensed under his touch and only when your muscles relaxed he dared to bring his lips next to ear.

  
“I would have protected you,” he said and you couldn’t help but snort, imagining a sickly Ivar fending off his brothers in order to save a slave. “Weak as I was. I would have taught all of them not to pick on you.” He continued, his breath hitting the shell of your ear.

  
“Why? Why fight your blood brothers for a thrall?” You asked, turning your head so you could watch him from the corner of your eye.

  
“Because… Unlike my dear brothers, you have not made fun of me, not even once. Whenever you looked at me, I’ve never seen pity or disgust for my condition and even now, after all this time, you were forced to help me, yet you never complained. “ Ivar’s voice trembled and your hand covered his.

  
“How could I do such a thing? I’ve loved you too much. ” You smiled and redness stained your face at the confession. Ivar could see the tips of your ears reddening and he nuzzled his nose in your hair.

  
“And now? Do you still love me?” Ivar’s hand crawled up and started playing with the laces of your nightgown.

  
“It does not matter if I love you or not,” you said, a pang of pain constricted your heart, pulling the corners of your mouth downwards in a deep frown.

  
“Of course it does,” Ivar growled, trying to roll you on your back, but you would not let him.

  
“I am a thrall. Even if I were to love you, nothing but pain would come from it.” You sniffled and buried your face into his pillow.

  
“What if… if you weren’t a slave anymore? What if you were a free woman? Would you admit your love for me then?” your head snapped from the pillow and your breathing stopped. You turned slowly under his arm and you faced him once more.

  
“Yes,” you whispered, nodding your head in a second form of confirmation.

  
“Then I’ll go talk with mother tomorrow.” Ivar smiled, finally being able to bring you closer to his body. Your fronts joined and your breast was mashed on his wide chest.

  
“Why are you doing this?” Your eyes searched him, but he only chuckled.

  
“Isn’t it obvious, Y/N?” Ivar said, closing in, letting his lips brush slightly over yours.

  
“I wish to hear it,” you mumbled, your breath shallow as you pecked his lips, keeping yours close.

“Stubborn, aren’t you? Fine. I am doing this because I am in love with you. It has been so ever since we were children. I couldn’t imagine any other woman by my side and I don’t even want to try.” He smiled and you let out a laugh of excitement, before leaning in to kiss him. His lips met you half way and they crashed into yours in a frenzy of thrill and joy. None of you seemed to be too experienced, but it didn’t bother you and, remembering what the older slave girls had told you, you licked his bottom lip gently, before biting it and pulling it between your lips to suck it. He moaned in pleasure and you smiled, letting his lip slip from your teeth.

You slowly moved to sit on top of him but tried not to apply any weight on his pelvis.

“I wish to have you, Ivar.” You breathed heavily in his face, rubbing your noses together and stealing another short lived kiss from the prince. He broke your kiss and turned his face to the side, his blonde eyebrows furrowed and his lips thinned in a tight line.

“I’m assuming you’ve heard the rumors. About my potency, ” he uttered and barked a crude laugh, his mood instantly changing. You frowned and rolled your hips harshly on his crotch.

“And you should know that I am not the kind of woman that takes heed of such petty things, as rumors,” you said, offering a sloppy kiss on his jaw, your hips continuously moving in a small circle. Ivar moaned and you continued your trail of kisses to his neck, biting and nipping the sensitive skin there, before returning to his lips to peck them lightly. You rose to rapidly remove your nightshirt and as you wanted to bend over him once more, he stopped you. His eyes took in every detail of your body, every curve, scar and birth sign, they moved over your breast and stopped at the small tuft of hair hiding your mound from his penetrating gaze.

“You’re beautiful,” he rasped in appreciation and, chuckling, you grabbed his hands and placed them on your breast. He kneaded them carefully, pinching a nipple and pulling, making you moan in need. He rolled the peaking buds between the pads of his thumbs and pointers and, seeing your positive reaction, he rose to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples. Your hands moved to the back of his head, grabbing his hair to push him forward. He sucked harder in response and you moaned, your belly heating up. You tugged Ivar’s hair and he let the nipple slide out with a wet ‘pop’ and you quickly grabbed the material of his nightshirt to get it off. Throwing it next to yours, you ran your hands over Ivar’s toned chest and over his broad shoulders. You pushed him on his back and bent over him to pepper kisses all over his face. You moved your lips to his strong jaw, then down his neck and over his chest, reaching his small nipples. You gently dragged your teeth over one, making him shudder, while your fingers rubbed the other into a small nub. Ivar’s moans made you bravely go further down, your tongue leaving a trace of saliva over the man’s taut stomach. The pink tip of your tongue dipped into his navel and your ears picked up Ivar’s load moan. You grasped the prince’s thigh and continued your way down, kissing and sucking every portion of skin you could. Your hand creeped upwards and the tips of your fingers brushed over Ivar’s semi-erection.

“It seems that Margrethe did not do such a great job when she laid with you, Ivar.” You smiled proudly, taking hold of his dick and pumping it a few times to harden it completely. Ivar let out a shallow laugh that turned into a helpless moan and your smile turned into a mischievous grin.

You swirled your tongue around the head before wrapping your lips around it and sucking gently. Your hand steadied his cock by keeping a firm grip at the base and your other hand ended up between your legs, rubbing and probing at your entrance. Letting the head slide out of your mouth, you licked around and under the tip, assuring that it would glide easier in your mouth. Locking eyes with the prince, you opened your mouth and let a blob of saliva fall on the tip of his cock. Not breaking the contact, you rubbed the slick liquid on his cock and smirking, you let your head bob down, engulfing half of his cock in one go.

Ivar inhaled sharply while bunching the furs roughly in his fists. You fluttered your eyelashes and looked down, concentrating on your task, but Ivar’s eyes never left your face. He was entranced, seeing his cock disappear in your mouth and reappear once again, your cheeks hollowing to make the suction more powerful. His toes curled when you finally were able to take all of him in your mouth and the muscle of your throat constricted painfully, your eyes watering slightly at the strain. You willed yourself to relax and you pulled off, only to go down again. Your fingers found your clit and began circling it, making your legs tremble slightly.

“Stop it,” Ivar said and you let his dick slip out of your mouth. “I want to cum inside you and fill you with my seed.” You licked your lips and nodded. Crawling over him, you hovered above and pecked his lips.

“How would you like to have me?” You sighed, nestling your nose in the crook of his neck.

“On your side,” Ivar ordered. Even though your eyebrows rose slightly, you complied and turned on your side, showing him your ass. His palm came down on your cheek, making the soft skin jiggle and you let out a gasp of surprise.

“So soft,” Ivar said, fondling your ass. His hand slid between your legs to feel the wetness and started rubbing your folds gently. “You’re so wet for me,” he breathed out, slipping two fingers inside, pumping them in and out in a steady pace.

“Ivar, please. I want you to fill me,” you rasped out, moving your hips in sync with his fingers.

“Very well,” Ivar said, taking his fingers out and spreading your wetness over his dick. He grabbed the base of his cock and hit your ass twice with it, before nudging the tip between your folds. He slid it all in in one go and the two of you moaned in unison. His arm snaked around your waist and his hand cupped your breast, while he started pumping his dick into your cunt. You took his hand in yours and moved it from your breast to your throat. Ivar took the message and, biting the lobe of your ear, he squeezed softly. Your cunt contracted around his dick and your hand went from his hand directly to your clit, applying pressure and rubbing it roughly. You knew you wouldn’t last long and neither would Ivar, by the sound of his shallow grunts. He slammed into you rougher, losing control of the steady rhythm he had going and arched your back, bouncing your hips to meet his thrusts.

“Are you close?” Ivar asked, his sweaty chest pressing into your back, his breath fanning the nape of your neck. You nodded and he squeezed your throat in approval, making you moan in pleasure. A burning sensation was forming in your belly and your legs started to tremble in anticipation. The knot in your belly snapped when Ivar moved his hand on your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers, your own fingers still working furiously on your clit. Your legs shook and the walls of your pussy contacted and spasmed around his hard dick, making him shudder and release his seed deep inside, while pumping a few more times. His hips stilled and he remained buried inside of you, his face hiding in your neck’s nape, kissing the damp skin. When he pulled out, you turned in his arms and hugged him tightly.

“From now on, you are no longer a thrall. You are my woman and everybody will have to accept that, especially my brothers and my mother,” the man said, peppering kisses on your forehead and stopping at your temple. “Now, let us sleep. We have a long day ahead of us.” You sighed, content and sated, and reached for the furs once more. Truly, a storm was coming your way.


End file.
